The day dawned differently. I could feel it from the moment I opened my eyes. The scent of Manu's perfume still lingered on the pillow beside me, the same one that had acco
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54: Ravi Bonetti
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A Second Chance For The Billionaire 54: Ravi Bonetti
The day dawned differently. I could feel it from the moment I opened my eyes. The scent of Manu's perfume still lingered on the pillow beside me, the same one that had accompanied me throughout the night—and that, somehow, had made me sleep in peace for the first time in years.While I had my coffee, I looked again at the ultrasound envelope on the table. The small outline printed in black and white was almost unrecognizable to an outsider, but to me… it was proof that something inside me still knew how to love.I tucked the ph
A Second Chance For The Billionaire 53: Ravi Bonetti
The day dawned with a soft sun, the kind that seems tailor-made for new beginnings. Manu and I were in the car, on our way to the clinic. The radio played a calm song, but the sound that truly held my attention was her breathing—light, rhythmic, almost in harmony with the engine.She wore a floral dress, made of light fabric, that swayed with every movement. The thin belt marked her waist, and her belly—round, firm—seemed to take on a life of its own beneath the light fabric. It was impossible not to look. And impossible not to smile.For months, I had only seen this woman in the midst of pain. In the hospital, in uncertainty, in fear. Now, seeing Manu like this, radiant, was like watching the sun rise after a winter that had lasted too long.
A Second Chance For The Billionaire 52: Roger Delavega
The restaurant was discreet, hidden on a narrow street, with a simple façade and windows covered by red curtains. I always chose places like this—where no one paid too much attention. The muffled sound of conversations, cutlery clinking against plates, the smell of olive oil and grilled meat… everything blended together, creating the perfect environment for conversations that shouldn't exist.My contact was already there, at one of the back tables. Ernesto was never late—he was a man who knew the value of punctuality, especially when dealing with someone like me. He nodded discreetly when he saw me come in.I walked over to him, my dark overcoat still damp from the light rain falling outside. I sat down, unhurriedly, and signaled to the waiter. I ordered a double whiskey, no ice. I need
A Second Chance For The Billionaire 51: Manoela Ferraz
The silence of the penthouse slowly swallowed me.There were days when it felt like an embrace—welcoming, calm, safe. But today… today it was suffocating.The clock showed just past three in the afternoon, and I had already counted how many times the wind had swayed the curtains, how many pregnancy books were stacked on the coffee table, and even how many white tiles there were in the kitchen.Three days.Only three days until the next doctor's appointment, three days until I might hear from the doctor that I could return to a slightly more active routine—walking, doing something on my own, feeling like I still existed outside the sofa, the bed, or that colossal balcony that felt like a gilded cage.
A Second Chance For The Billionaire 50: Ravi Bonetti
The afternoon was heavy, the sky taken over by thick clouds that seemed ready to burst at any moment. I had spent the entire day locked in my office, trying to focus on numbers, reports, contracts—anything that could distract me from the avalanche of feelings that had been swallowing me ever since Manu came into my life for good.But it was no use. No matter how much I buried myself in work, her image always came back. The way her gaze wavered between fear and trust. The hesitant touch when she let me get close. The sound of her restrained laugh, as if she had forgotten what it was like to smile.I closed my laptop and took a deep breath. That day called for silence, not meetings. It called for remembrance. I grabbed my coat, my keys, and left the building without telling anyone where I was going.
A Second Chance For The Billionaire 49: Roger Delavega
The bar was packed, the smell of stale beer and fried grease mixing with the hoarse sound of cheap blues. It was the kind of place where no one paid attention to anyone—perfect for what I needed to do. I sat in the darkest corner, facing the door, and ordered a double whiskey. The glass sweated in my hands before I even took the first sip.My contact arrived fifteen minutes later. Chief Marcos Duarte, an investigator long enough to know that there are certain conversations you don't have inside a police station. "Roger," he greeted me, looking around, as if the bar's heavy air could stick a reputation to him. "What the hell do you want with me in a place like this?"I smiled from the corner of my mouth. "I thought you liked discreet environments."
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